The Buddha said, “We suffer, right from birth.”
So every pleasure leads in time to pain—
And every joy to sorrow, once again.
Be punished. So it's been, with the best of men
And women. Caring, labor rarely win
Their just rewards. The world is mired in sin.
That waits for us. When life is at its end,
Oblivion is—and there the matter stands,
As far as this one kens and understands.
And then in time to age and then to die,
At times before our times, so some may weep—
And realize that life is not to keep.
And so, I'd end my little nonsense rhyme—
But wait! I'll slow—and sip of life a while
And raise my glass to end it with a smile.
I raise a toast and from my heart I say,
“I wish you joy—and though there might be woe,
You'll bend and mend, and smile and let it go.”
Brooklyn, New York
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